This is a post for those of you who feel very close to your pets, who feel just as intense a connection with your animal family as you do your human family.  It recounts some raw emotion I’ve been feeling for the last couple of days. At the end, I will explain just what it has to do with smoking or not smoking weed.

I have had cat and dog members in my family for most of my life but I’ve not had to experience the loss of any of them for quite a few years.  Animals don’t live as long as people so you always know you’re going to lose them at some point but you’re never quite prepared for it.

A couple of nights ago, my little 8 lb. 14 year old white cat named Lily awoke me from my sleep.  She was kind of writhing around on the bed next to me making noises that were not normal.  I turned on the light and saw she was panting heavily.  She tried to stand but couldn’t.

She was having a heart attack and her poor little lungs were filling with fluid which was suffocating her.  As I was rushing around the bedroom, putting on clothes, looking for my keys, wallet, etc., I kept telling her, “stay with me baby, stay with me.”

I rushed her to the all night Vet clinic, missing the turn off twice because I was in such a panic. I listened to her pitiful moans and tried to comfort her but with little effect.

The Vet thought that we could save her with the proper treatment so I told her by all means to proceed.  The next several hours were rough but by late afternoon, the Vet called and said Lily could come home.  I was relieved.

I knew we weren’t out of the woods yet but she didn’t seem to be in too much pain and was showing signs of her usual self.  We kept a close eye on her all evening and administered her meds as instructed.  When we went to bed, her breathing seemed normal.

It was hard to sleep because I kept checking on her but I finally drifted off around 2:30.  At 4:30, I awoke with a jolt to hear Lily going through the same convulsions as the night before, only this time they seemed much worse.

I rushed her back to the clinic.  As I drove I put the fingers of my right hand through the cage door of her pet carrier while she limply laid her little head against them gasping for breath.  She was still with me when I got there but just barely.

They took her to the ICU and I waited for the Vet to give a prognosis.  We could proceed with saving her but this time there would be more damage to her heart and lungs.  Even if she did survive, we were probably looking at a long recovery period which most likely would result in a poor quality of life.

I was not ready to let go.  She seemed to be in perfect health only a couple of days before.  I could not let her suffer though.  She did not deserve to be in so much pain.  There was no other choice.

I held her in my arms as the Vet administered the euthanasia.  I told her I loved her and thanked her for many years of comfort and joy as her heart thumped one last time.

Those of you who have lost a furry little creature who was in your care for so many years understand the grief and sorrow I feel right now.  As for anyone who doesn’t get it, well, screw them.

I was hesitant to post this story on this blog but then I felt there might be a lesson here for those of us who have struggled with weed dependence.

If I were still a stoner I would be smoking it up right now to ease the pain.  I would grieve but I would also be masking my feelings to a certain degree.  Lily’s memory deserves the full measure of  my sorrow and when God forbid something similar happens in my human family the same principle applies.

I’m glad I’m not stoned right now. I am fully immersed in the grieving process the way nature intended.  I’ll get over it much quicker this way which is not just good for me but for my living animal and human family as well because they should always get as much of me as I can possibly give and I know I didn’t give as much as I could when I was stoned.